


laws of gravity

by beecalm



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, M/M, Sci-fi themes, Yearning, irresponsible use of anti-gravity, minimal angst, miya atsumu gets clowned on, unhealthy amounts of space imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24647116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beecalm/pseuds/beecalm
Summary: One day, Kourai will become the youngest pilot to take flight from the homestead fleet. He will race through the stars, stand with his back to a sun no human has ever seen before, and page himself through to Hinata’s room to tell him of how he has won.(Of course, Hinata will follow him, maybe a year after- because space is a lonely battlefield, and not even Kourai can win a fight when he’s the only one taking part.)
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Hoshiumi Kourai
Comments: 14
Kudos: 32





	laws of gravity

**Author's Note:**

> I've been told I use a lot of space imagery- so naturally, I saw that as a challenge.

The dim lighting which radiates through the decks of the homestead spacecraft  _ Watarimono  _ indicates that it’s only just turned morning, and Kourai is about to jump out of a tenth storey window. 

Of course, it’s perfectly safe- before he’ll even make it two floors down, the anti-grav failsafe will catch onto the fact that he’s falling, and lower him gently towards the nearest railing. He’s not the only one at it either. Beside him, one spacesuit-clad leg hanging out of the window frame, is Hinata. They’d giggled like children all the way up to the window, failing spectacularly to silence the noise of their heavy boots on the metal walkways, and really, it’s a miracle that nobody has caught onto them yet.

Taking advantage of the anti-grav failsafe is more of an activity for little kids who got bored of their videogames and building kits- not exactly illegal, but still generally discouraged. Kourai is not a kid any more- as one of the youngest pilots-in-training on board the  _ Watarimono,  _ he should be setting a good example for the aspiring youth.

“Good examples are for  _ losers.”  _ He says instead, because it’s been less than a week since Hinata got back from a two year training camp on neighbouring homestead vessel the  _ Negura _ , and Kourai’s missed doing dangerous things with his self-proclaimed partner in crime.

Not that jumping out of windows is dangerous. Just frowned upon.

(Ten storeys is still very, very high up.)

Of course he’s seen Hinata plenty of times over the two years, but he hasn’t  _ seen  _ him. Not without a wall of pixels or a hologram screen getting in the way of Kourai racing him to the end of the docking bay and back. 

Now that he can view Hinata up close, Kourai can tell that he’s gotten taller (so has Kourai, so he’s still winning on that font), that he’s grown into his own body with a sort of confidence that’s almost blinding, and that at least his smile hasn’t changed one bit. Kourai has always liked Hinata’s smile, because there’s something about it that feels like a challenge. And there’s nothing Kourai loves more than a fight he knows he can win. 

“I dare you to jump first.” Kourai provokes, expecting some sort of argument. That’s how it always went.

“Okay.” Hinata shrugs instead, and topples forwards out of the window. 

Kourai is caught off guard, but he wastes no time in jumping out after him. (Surprises- Hinata is getting annoyingly good at those, recently.)

He tumbles into empty space for what can’t be any more than a few seconds, his heart leaping into his throat and his stomach lurching in a way that makes him almost glad he didn’t eat breakfast, then there’s the soft warning alarm of the anti-grav failsafe, and his descent comes to a slow halt. 

“We made it down to the seventh floor this time,” Hinata is already floating a little way above Kourai, flipped over on his front to grin down at him. His bright orange hair is tousled, a little shorter than it used to be, and Kourai thinks he wants to keep jumping out of tenth storey windows with him for the foreseeable future. “Race you to the railing?” 

Moving in antigravity is hard, but Kourai wouldn’t be much of a pilot if he couldn’t manage it. He beats Hinata by a fraction of a second, and as he scrambles back over the railing and plants his feet solidly on the walkway, he grins wickedly- because winning against Hinata only comes second in satisfaction to the way the controls of a spacecraft feel under his hands.

“I’m brilliant, right?” He says, more than a little self-satisfied.

“What do you two think you’re doing?” Shouts the public safety officer who rounds the corner in response.

“Let’s show her how fast two of the youngest pilots-to-be in the fleet can run.” As he grins, Hinata is like a star that burns through competition rather than hydrogen and helium- and his footsteps falling on the metal walkways are all Kourai can hear. They sprint into the stairwell, hopping steps three at a time and almost trampling a few passers-by on the way. Kourai can’t tell if they’re still being followed, and he doesn’t want to risk turning around to check- not because he’s afraid of being caught, but because he’s forged a few centimetres in front of Hinata, and he’s not going to give up his lead that easily. 

They cut through the market because it’s the easiest place to get lost in, already bustling with food stalls selling breakfast goods to scientists, technicians and engineers on their way to work. Kourai admires the chefs who can make food that spent most of its life in dehydrated little cubes taste so good, so unlike the cafeteria food back at the training center. That  _ definitely  _ tastes like it spent most of its life as dehydrated cubes.

“If we weren’t about to get caught by a public safety officer, I could  _ totally  _ go for some breakfast right now,” Hinata calls, and above the crowd, Kourai can hear his stomach growling something fierce. “Stars, I’m starving!” 

“Should’ve eaten before we left!” Kourai calls back, like he didn’t skip out on breakfast himself. 

They run, until they pass through the doors to the Lens.

Kourai doesn’t think there's a single person on board the  _ Watarimono  _ who doesn’t like the Lens. Even himself, who takes life at two-hundred miles an hour and cruises endlessly ahead of those who don’t try to keep up, likes the peace and quiet every once in a while. 

The Lens is not much more than a glass dome, fixed to the back of the ship like an afterthought. But inside it, the artificial sunlight and flowerbeds overflowing with plants, leaves curling towards the sprinkler systems and flowers peppered amongst the greenery, makes it the perfect place to wind down and look out over the vast field of starlight beyond. There’s other gardens scattered throughout the ship- spending at least some time amongst the greenery is a requirement, not a suggestion, after all- but none are quite as extensive or lustrous as those held within the Lens. It’s a breath of fresh air in more ways than one, an oasis contained at the back of the ship with a perfect view of a universe that knows no limits, separated only by a thick sheet of plexiglass. 

Kourai likes the viewpoint best, so he and Hinata weave through the plants, one last precaution to lose the trail of the public safety officer, then fall into a heap of laughter by a patch of herbs that fills the viewpoint with the smell of rosemary. Hinata rests his arms on the railing and stares out through the glass, Kourai joining him once he’s caught his breath. 

The view from the window never fails to take his breath away, no matter how many times he sees it.

Because beyond that single sheet of glass lies infinity- endless and unexplored and so vast it makes Kourai’s heart do flips behind his ribcage- and Kourai wants nothing more than to be the person who steps bravely out amongst those stars, and discovers something nobody has ever dared to think of before. Space lies before him like the challenge of a lifetime, and ever since he’d been old enough to wobble up to the viewpoint and listen to his mom pointing out the stars and the planets, he’s known that he will be the one to defeat it. 

He’s not the pilot type- he falls so far outside the stereotype he may as well be in another solar system- but he has proven more people wrong than he can count on both hands, and he will continue to do so if that’s what it takes. 

Then along came Hinata, who belongs to the same solar system as Kourai does. Who crashed his shuttle simulator on his first day of class, climbed out of the cockpit, and announced that he would be the first of them all to touch the stars. And how could Kourai turn down such a challenge?

One day, Kourai will become the youngest pilot to take flight from the homestead fleet. He will race through the stars, stand with his back to a sun no human has ever seen before, and page himself through to Hinata’s room to tell him of how he has won. (Of course, Hinata will follow him, maybe a year after- because space is a lonely battlefield, and not even Kourai can win a fight when he’s the only one taking part.)

But here and now, as the lights become brighter to signal mid-morning, and the stars blink beyond the plexiglass, Kourai thinks he’s okay with just standing beside him. 

“I missed the Lens like crazy while I was away,” Hinata admits, with a conspiratory smile. “We’ve got the best gardeners here- all the plants on the  _ Negura  _ looked so sad.” 

“Should’ve come back sooner then,” Kourai elbows him in the side. “Oh yeah, I beat  _ all  _ your records on your games while you were gone- hope you don’t mind.”

Hinata blinks, disbelieving, then makes some half-hearted attempt at putting Kourai in a headlock. It gets his hair even more messed up than it usually is, but Kourai is just glad that Hinata hasn’t changed all that much. He might have gotten a bit taller, a bit stronger, but as he releases Kourai’s head from his armpit and turns his attention back towards the stars, he’s still the same opponent Kourai has always competed against. He’s still the kid who keeps wiping out of his shuttle simulator and makes himself sick doing backflips in the anti-grav chambers and falls asleep in theory class. He’s still the one person Kourai wants to win against more than anything else.

Kourai likes to think they’re something of a pair- the two kings on either side of the chessboard, a duo of binary stars, each trying to eat the other whole. Where he runs, Hinata will sprint to catch up. When Hinata pulls off a maneuver, Kourai will practice until he can do it better. Two unlikely pilots who will one day prove the universe wrong. 

Beside him, Hinata stands on his tiptoes, leans out over the railing, and stretches the palm of his hand towards the window. Like if he just reaches far enough, he’ll be able to skim the solar flares with his fingertips. 

“I’m going to get there first.” He says, and rather than a challenge, it feels like a promise. 

“Like hell you are.” Kourai grins, though he’s not entirely sure when it was that Hinata became so self-assured. 

“There you are!” It’s the public safety officer that interrupts them, stumbling out of the rose-bushes with a scowl on her face and an exasperated sigh tugging at the edges of her words.

Hinata grabs Kourai’s hand, grins like he’s trying to hide a supernova behind his teeth, and runs.

-

Classes for the day finish with plenty of time to spare before dinner, so Kourai and Hinata sit opposite one another in the gym, cross-legged and tossing a ball back and forth across the room while they talk. They’re supposed to be using the space for proper exercise- one hour a day, minimum- but Kourai reasons that running along the walkways for most of the morning should have filled that quota. They don’t activate any of the exercise protocols, settling on playing catch like they’re kids in the schoolground.

“I mean, we already played with the anti-grav failsafe, we can’t get much more childish than that.” Hinata laughs when Kourai tells him as such, leaning to the side to knock the ball back on course. Kourai hits it in return, watching it sail back through the air and into Hinata’s outstretched palms.

This time, he catches it properly rather than volleying it back over, because the door slides open and Miya Atsumu walks in, his hair wet like he just got caught in one of the sprinkler systems. Kourai hides a snort of laughter behind a cough. 

“Hey, Shouyou,” Atsumu greets, casual as ever, and Hinata rolls the ball back over to Kourai as he pulls himself up off the floor. “The training sim earlier- what’d you get?” 

“98, you?” Hinata responds, and Kourai wonders if Atsumu even saw that he was sitting on the floor too. If he did, he makes no attempt at acknowledging him. 

“ _ Damn!”  _ Atsumu hisses, like he can’t believe his ears. “96. Damn. I can’t have my co-pilot bein’  _ better  _ than me.” 

“Who says I’m gonna be your co-pilot?” As he folds his arms, there’s a teasing grin on Hinata’s face, something which tells Kourai, and most likely Atsumu too, that he’s got them all figured out. Hinata is good at that- making people run circles around themselves to get the answer they want to hear from him. It’s unnerving, to say the least. 

“ _ Me-  _ I asked you, right before you left for that training camp.” Atsumu looks almost desperate, and Kourai coughs behind the ball again to hide his laughter. There’s a good few seconds of silence, in which Hinata looks like he’s thinking hard. Then-

“Oh, did you?” Kourai watches Atsumu’s last few fragments of dignity wither and die on the spot. It’s a little like watching a simulation crash- embarrassing, a little painful, and completely impossible to look away from. 

But beneath it all, there’s a lingering bitterness, something that hasn’t been dredged up in Kourai’s gut in quite some time. 

As sure as gravity and the conservation of energy- it is a universal law that Hinata is a challenge that everyone wants to win. Hinata is the one person Kourai has strived to succeed against, but to Hinata, he’s always been painfully aware that he’s just one of many. Hinata knows no greater joy in life than building others up to their best, then defeating them at their greatest. He’s been doing it since day one, collecting opponents like a black hole bends light and energy towards its singularity, and Kourai is just another one of many being pulled in.

But Kourai is no quitter- he’s going to prove to Hinata, one day, that he’s the only opponent he should be looking out for. 

So for now, he’ll settle with watching the wreckage of Atsumu’s ego as a consolation prize. 

-

The flight is going well. Kourai is making good speed and he’s directly on course, fuel levels as predicted and his flight-path steady. Through the plexiglass of the cockpit window he can see the beacon signalling the turning point of his route, blinking in the emptiness, and he angles himself towards it so he can cut around the corner and loop back to the docking bay in record time. 

Through the radio-static, he can hear Atsumu saying something from his own shuttle, a course-correction he had to make to avoid a satellite which showed up on his radar, that he’d group back to join them in a little while. And so that just leaves Hinata and Kourai competing, far ahead of the rest of the group, because there’s nobody that flies quite like them.

The desire to prove people wrong is one hell of a motivator, after all.

“Just us then?” Kourai opens a private transmission to Hinata’s shuttle, rather than using the general line that links all the ships in the training mission. On his radar, he can see the blinking light that indicates Hinata’s ship, just a little way off his starboard side. If he cranes his neck to look through the plexiglass, he can just about see the front of his ship. 

“Just  _ you _ .” Hinata replies, amusement clinging to his words even through the static, and he steps up the acceleration, pulling ahead of Kourai and swinging around the beacon. Kourai bites back an exclamation of surprise, and ramps up his own speed. He swings around the beacon with ease, using the momentum to carry him closer to Hinata, because while this mission isn’t a test of speed, Kourai knows fighting talk when he hears it. 

A warning sign lights up on his control-board, then another three, and Hinata’s ship is careering closer and closer into view, his voice shouting through the transmission link for him to slow down, to get out of the way because they’re going to crash and-

The  _ Simulation failed  _ alert flashes into life across the cockpit window, and Kourai tugs off his visor with a frustrated groan. He digs his palms into his eyes, because coming out of a simulation gives him a headache on the best of days, and crashing out of one is always even worse, the bitter taste of failure coming along for the ride. 

Kourai swings open the hatch and stumbles out of the pod, glancing along the row to where the other simulations are still in progress. The only other person not in their pod is Hinata, who glares down the hallway at Kourai while he climbs down into the training room.

“If you’re gonna crash out, do it into an asteroid next time.” Hinata grumbles, but by some stroke of good fortune he doesn’t look too annoyed. Kourai supposes that has more than a little to do with the fact that he’ll be first in line to get lunch now. 

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t crash into  _ anything  _ next time,” The instructor cautions, then dismisses Hinata with a wave of his hand, leaving just Kourai, squatting on the steps of his shuttle pod. 

He’s been through the same drill more times than he can count- everyone wipes out in simulations from time to time, but that doesn’t make it any less humiliating.

“You’re a capable pilot, Kourai,” Starts the instructor, with an expression on his face that’s more disappointed than angry. “You’ve got to stop treating everything like a competition, though.”

If he felt a little more argumentative, Kourai thinks he might have told the instructor that, when it comes to Hinata, then everything _ is _ a competition. That every smile, every bit of conversation, every win and every loss is just another push towards the question which reigns over every movement they have ever made- which of them will reach the stars first? But he doesn’t feel like arguing- his head hurts and he’s hungry, so instead he simply nods in recognition, and slumps out of the training room as soon as he’s dismissed.

Cafeteria food is the last thing he wants to think about, so instead Kourai heads down the walkway which leads to the marketplace, deciding he has enough allowance left to permit drowning his sorrows in the onigiri from the stall near the entrance. As he hops onto one of the mismatch stools in front of the stall, he’s greeted by the slightly more tolerable version of Atsumu- Miya Osamu, who smirks a lot less and makes really great food, so he’s not bad by Kourai’s standards. Even if he does share a face with Atsumu. 

“Who poured your breakfast down a waste chute?” Osamu comments, as Kourai empties out his savings into the scanner on the countertop and orders five of the spiciest onigiri that Osamu can make. 

“Crashed my sim shuttle,” Kourai bites into the first onigiri, and lets the filling burn on his tongue for a little while before swallowing it down. “So I’m sulking.”

“Spare me the details,” Osamu responds, glancing over his shoulder to check on something in the back of the stall. “I’m sure I’ll hear  _ all _ about it from ‘Tsumu later.” 

Before Kourai can inform Osamu that he’s not helpful at all, he hurries off to see another customer, leaving Kourai to wallow with only his hideously spicy onigiri for company. He takes another bite, and wishes he ordered some water to go with it. 

“My fiancee is in the pilot training programme too.” The customer Osamu was speaking to turns towards Kourai as she sits down, motioning towards his uniform. She smiles, doesn’t stay anything else and Kourai narrows his eyes.

“You’re not gonna act surprised?” He questions, swallowing a mouthful of food. 

“Should I be?” She asks, then thanks Osamu as he slides her lunch over the countertop towards her.

“Y’know, most people act at least a bit shocked that someone so young got into the programme.” Kourai knows that really, it’s not a good idea to pick an argument with strangers. But he’s in a bad mood to say the least, and the customer doesn’t seem to mind all that much. She smiles amiably.

“It’s impressive, but they’re starting to let a lot of younger students onto the programme nowadays, so it’s not that surprising,” She picks up her lunch and steps off the stool with a wave in Kourai’s direction. “I need to get back to work, keep training hard.” And then she’s lost amongst the crowd before Kourai can say another word.

Kourai bites so hard into an onigiri that it makes his jaw ache. 

Sachirou finds him as he’s half-way into his fourth onigiri. He’s still got a pen tucked behind one ear like he’s just stepped out of the lab, and the corners of his mouth twitch up into a knowing smile as he spots Kourai. 

“Figured you’d be here,” He says in greeting, then points to the last piece left of Kourai’s lunch. “Mind if I eat that? I’m starving.” 

“Are you keeping tabs on me or something?” Kourai mumbles back, before shoving the box in Sachirou’s direction. He accepts the onigiri gratefully, taking a few large bites before he speaks again.

“Hinata said you weren’t in the training halls, and you weren’t in the Lens either, so you had to be here,” Sachirou reasons, and Kourai supposes it’s only natural for a person he’s known since middle-school to be in tune with every one of his habits. “I came to stop you from sulking all your allowance away, but it seems I arrived too late.” He casts a pointed glance down at the empty box of onigiri.

“The great Hoshiumi Kourai beats you to the chase once more.” He jokes, but it comes out more flat than anticipated as Sachirou tugs him out of his seat. 

“So, what’s got you all moody?” They walk back along one of the gangways, catching the elevator to the upper deck despite it being a longer route, because it gives them a better view of the stars winking down through the glass panel above. If Kourai jumps, he thinks he might just be able to reach them. 

“I’m not moody,” He protests, prompting raised eyebrows and a knowing smile from Sachirou. “I crashed out of my sim mission. Then some lady wasn’t even surprised in the slightest about my training uniform- like c’mon, underestimate me a little bit first!” 

“What happened to you hating being underestimated?” Sachirou prompts, glancing up to where the haze of the asteroid belt can just be seen through the window overhead. 

“I do hate it- I just can’t prove people wrong when they get how brilliant I am right off the bat.” He folds his arms like a child, stomping along the walkway in his heavy, mass-issued boots. 

“I hope you didn’t say anything rude to her- I have an exam in a few days, I don’t have the time to track her down and wrangle you into apologising.” Sachirou makes no effort to catch up, just smiles around his words in a way that makes it obvious he knows he’s won.

That night, Kourai dreams of spaceships, exploding onigiri and Hinata’s ‘ _ just you’  _ looping in the background like a broken transmission.

-

Kourai looks down at the black hole diagram on his tablet screen, and decides resolutely that he’ll never have a career as an artist. His ergosphere looks kind of wobbly, like someone has kicked a dent out of it, and on an afterthought he doodles in a giant space-bug taking a bite. He slides his tablet along the desk to show Hinata his handiwork, who almost draws the professor’s attention towards them as he muffles a laugh behind his fist.

Astronomy classes are the part of pilot training that nobody ever tells you about. It’s necessary- to navigate space, you have to understand it first- but Kourai has never liked equations, and astronomy has a little too many of them for his liking. 

The pictures of binary stars and supernovae are interesting at least. Even if his attempts at replicating them look like something out of a bad alien movie. 

They’re doing a full lesson on black holes, because what better way to introduce the laws of gravity than with the very things that are set on tearing them to shreds. There’s a diagram up on the board- ergosphere, event horizon, singularity- labelled in the professors neat script as she tells them of how, should they fall into one feet-first, they’d be able to see the back of their own head due to the bending of light around the singularity. 

Kourai thinks that sounds pretty neat, until the professor reminds them that they’d be ripped into spaghetti before they even made it to the event horizon. 

The more the professor talks, the more Kourai finds himself reminded of Hinata, dozing in the seat next to him. 

He thinks that, like many others, he’s found himself trapped within the accretion disk of Hinata’s existence. Pulled in orbit around a gravity so huge that not even light can hope to escape it. Perhaps it’s a little on the dramatic side, but that’s the sort of existence Hinata leads- dragging people in, holding them steady. And slowly, slowly, Kourai feels himself tipping on the edge of the event horizon- the point of no return, the place from which nothing can break free. 

He’s not quite there yet, but the outcome is inevitable all the same. 

One day, Hinata’s singularity will swallow Kourai whole. One day, he’ll eat his own pride, and ask Hinata to be his co-pilot (once Kourai has reached the stars first, of course). One day, he’ll discover what really lies at the centre of a black hole.

But today he’ll just prod Hinata awake with his stylus, because he’s started to drool all over his tablet screen and it’s kinda gross to look at.

-

Kourai likes to take morning runs along the walkways of the  _ Watarimono,  _ while the time-adjusted lighting is still dim to indicate night, and the sleeping ship has yet to wake up to face a new day. He prefers it to the treadmills in the gym back at the training centre because it feels like he’s actually  _ going  _ somewhere, even if that somewhere is just a loop past people’s apartments, to the docking bay and back. It’s nice to see the ships- cargo-loaders, aerial science labs, shuttle-buses to other homestead vessels- all lying in wait in the hangars, engines still and their pilots asleep. He knows that, someday soon, he’ll be working amongst them too.

As he’s warming up in the corridor, stretching out his legs and spine, Hinata emerges from the bathroom. His hair is damp like he’s just showered, and he’s got a hoodie pulled over his training uniform, the logo on the back belonging to the  _ Negura,  _ where he’d spent the past two years.

“Thought I’d join you.” Hinata announces, and falls into a stretch beside Kourai, back arching like a cat as he stoops over to touch his toes. The tone of his voice tells Kourai that he doesn’t get a say in the matter.

“Hah!” He laughs in response. “Good luck keeping up with me!” 

For most things in life, Kourai doesn’t wait for anyone. If someone wants to catch up, then they have to do so out of their own willpower, because Kourai is too busy creating opportunities for himself to open them for anyone else. The same goes for running- he keeps his pace, and if someone wants to match him, then that’s what their legs are for. 

As they take off down the corridor, Kourai quickly sees that Hinata is going to have no trouble keeping up. He keeps a quick yet steady pace alongside him as they run through the sleepy market stalls, one of the smaller communal gardens, a district of office blocks and a few high-rise apartments, the ceiling above them rumbling with fake thunder. It’s good having someone to run with, because every so often he can pick up the pace a little, just to watch the way Hinata takes it as a challenge and adjusts his speed to match. Like a tug-of-war game formed out of measured breathing and light footfalls. 

It’s a good motivator, and Kourai thinks he might ask Hinata to join him again someday.

As pilots-in-training, they have the necessary credentials to get through the heavy doors into the viewing area alongside the docking bay. It’s not the nicest of spaces- it smells like rocket fuel and the holographic plants are ramped up a bit too bright to be easy on the eyes- but there’s a vending machine in the corner, and it’s got a great view over the ships in the bay, so it’s worth it. 

“I’ll transfer the cash to you later if you buy me something,” Hinata reasons, gesturing towards the vending machine. “I spent all my allowance on a new ball for the gym ‘cause I accidentally spiked the old one down a waste chute.”

Kourai grumbles, but still tosses a sports-drink in Hinata’s direction.

They look out through the plexiglass window at the ships, lined up in neat rows despite their varied sizes and shapes, a sea of blinking lights filling the hangar and the only movement being the maintenance robots wheeling around and doing their work, patching up bits of faulty wiring and broken plating. 

“What was the docking bay like on the  _ Negura _ ?” Kourai asks, taking a sip of his drink. 

“Pretty much the same layout- just a lot bigger. They had a lot more fancy tech than we do on the  _ Watarimono,  _ especially for the pilot training programme,” He looks excited as he talks, as if envisioning the place before his eyes. “Big robots and cranes that went  _ swoosh  _ across the whole hangar. The training shuttles were so fast too, like  _ bang  _ and  _ woosh _ !” 

“Our shuttles go  _ bang  _ and  _ woosh _ too.” Kourai reminds him, although he’s not quite sure why he’s so eager to defend the  _ Watarimono,  _ not when he knows that there’s plenty of other homestead vessels with training programmes that are just as good, if not better. He supposes it has something to do with the fact that this is the ship he was born on, the ship he grew up in, and the ship he will first take flight from.

“Yeah but those ones did it  _ more.  _ The training programme there was brilliant- they had some real geniuses on it, you know.” Kourai does know- he’d heard all about it from Hinata while he was there, through video calls on his tablet in the middle of the night, because the  _ Negura  _ ran on an entirely different timezone.

“Can I ask a really stupid question?” Kourai asks, because though he really hadn’t wanted it to, the question has been eating away at him ever since they set foot in the docking bay. “If it was that brilliant over there, then why’d you come back? I’m sure they would have offered you a full-ride to stay there if you asked.” 

From beside him, Hinata shrugs. “I guess, when I take flight and get to be the first to reach the stars, I want it to be from home. Not from some elite training hangar that churns out pilots like they’re machines. Sure, the loading bay here kinda smells, and the showers in the dorms only stay warm for like five minutes- but the  _ Watarimono _ is where I want to fly from.” 

He stamps a foot against the metal-plated floor, like he’s staking his claim on the ground below him. A corner of space to call his own.

“That’s too bad, because I’m gonna make it out there first.” Kourai announces as he tosses his empty bottle towards the waste chute, only for it to spit it right back out at him with an automated warning about recycling. It ruins the dramatics somewhat, but it also makes Hinata laugh till there’s tears in his eyes- so it’s not all that bad.

“There were times when I thought you weren’t going to come back, you know.” As they run back, the lights along the walkways start to brighten, and Kourai tilts his head up towards the window to stare at the stars instead of Hinata’s face.

It’s not something he’s proud to admit, but Kourai has always known that Hinata is the sort of person that will never settle for even his best, always trying to forge out something  _ more-  _ like he’s fighting a winning battle against gravity. He’s always one step ahead, always new and surprising, and all Kourai can do is follow his lead.

But he can’t follow Hinata everywhere- so two years ago, he had stood upon the walkway above the docking bay, craned his neck out over the railing, and shouted at Hinata’s disappearing back that he would wait for him, no matter how long it took. Hinata had turned around right as the shuttle-bus doors had slid shut behind him, and Atsumu had smacked Kourai on the back of the head and told him to stop being so dramatic, like he was any person to talk. 

“You waited for me, though- you obviously knew I’d come back.” Hinata teases, and Kourai isn’t about to admit that, for someone as impatient as himself, he’d found no problems when it came to waiting for Hinata. He takes life two steps at a time, hates waiting even for his dinner to heat up, but if it was for Hinata, he’d wait ten years if that was what it had taken. 

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m the greatest opponent you’ll ever have.” Picking up his running pace, Kourai turns back to face Hinata and grins.

Hinata’s face lights up like a nebula, as he matches Kourai’s pace and says ‘ _ damn right’ _ with a smile that flashes his teeth and looks downright  _ unfair.  _

Kourai feels himself tipping dangerously on the edge of Hinata’s event horizon, like there’s something sitting between them that’s set to tear him to shreds.

The breakfast situation once they get back to the cafeteria is pretty dire- rice and some sort of egg substitute which tastes as bland as it looks- and Kourai prods at it for a good few minutes before resigning himself to going hungry until he can head to the marketplace for lunch. 

Then Hinata prods at his leg under the table, just hard enough to hurt, and slips something round and smooth into his hand. He raises a finger to his lips in a gesture to keep quiet, something that’s a little difficult to manage when Kourai takes a discrete look under the table and sees a shiny red apple sitting in his hand- the real deal, none of that substitute stuff in sight.

“I pulled it off a tree in the garden we ran through- the branches were full of the things, so I doubt they’ll notice a few missing.” He’s smiling, conspiratory, and Kourai realises just how much of Hinata has changed in the time he was away. He’s a little more confident, a little more devious, like the clumsiness which used to cling to his movements has cracked and slipped away entirely. Kourai kind of likes it.

“I can’t believe I’m sitting next to a  _ criminal.”  _ Kourai jabs at Hinata with his elbow, but he wastes no time in eating the apple on his way to the anti-grav simulator. Stolen or not- he’d take apples over the egg substitute any day.

With change on his mind, Kourai can’t help paying more attention than usual as they get kitted up for the simulator. It’s like Hinata has grown into himself, burning from a regular star into a red giant, fusing helium, carbon, oxygen as he goes. Swallowing up everything in his path. It’s not just his personality that has grown ever-more bright either- Kourai has  _ eyes,  _ and it’s no secret that Hinata is attractive. 

He’s grown up- no longer the reckless kid that did too much all at once and always came up worse for wear at the other end. He’s still bright, still unpredictable, still hungry for improvement wherever he can find it, but it feels moderated now. He no longer spits out solar flares, and lives like he’s ready to go supernova before he’s even had the chance to breathe in the first place. 

Kourai feels like he’s playing for the losing side, because he doesn’t think he’s changed much himself aside from lopping off the ridiculous crown of hair he used to wear on his head. He hopes, somewhere in his chest, that Hinata thinks differently. That he can see changes which Kourai doesn’t know himself. 

Then they step into the simulator- a model of a cockpit down to the moveable controls and the space view through the window. The door seals behind them, and the gravity turns off. A pilot needs to know how to operate everything like normal, even if the artificial gravity fails, so exercises in zero-G are all too common. 

Though, as essential as they are, the exercises are also pretty fun.

Kourai is glad to see that Hinata hasn’t changed entirely, as he throws himself into a backflip in the middle of the cockpit, smacks his head on the ceiling panel, and announces that he’s going to throw up.

-

There’s always a special sort of buzz that precedes actual space missions. They don’t happen often- there’s a lot of preparation that has to go into the act of shipping a group of unlicensed pilots out into the unknown- but when they do, it’s rare to find a single person taking part that can sleep well the night before. The coffee machine in the cafeteria has an extra long line that morning, as Kourai joins the queue with his mug, well in need of a quick kick to get him properly awake. 

It’s a routine test mission, one they’re going to be graded on- five crew members in a standard training shuttle, shipping out to a beacon close to the asteroid belt and back again. Approximately a six hour round trip, but one that Kourai knows from experience he can manage in five. 

Hinata’s on the same team as him, along with three other students that Kourai doesn’t know all that well, all of them a lot older than Hinata and Kourai himself. It’s decided, as they walk along to the docking bay, that they’ll each take an hour at the controls, whoever piloted before shifting into the co-pilot seat, and the remaining members of the team keeping an eye on the condition of the ship and maintaining constant communication with the instructors back at base- ready to fly out and assist at a moment’s notice.

Kourai is no stranger to the training shuttles. The cockpit is identical to those in the flight simulators, but the area behind is a lot larger, with room for extra crew members, equipment and even a small kitchen area for preparing snacks and bunks for sleeping in on more long-haul flights. He’s in the pilot seat first, the most confident out of the five in his takeoff maneuvers, so he settles into the seat and pulls on his helmet, tapping into the transmission feed to make sure he can connect to the base effectively. He performs the mandatory checks, hands flying over the controls as Hinata falls into the co-pilot seat beside him and begins to take down navigation notes on the tablet with his stylus. 

“Nervous?” Kourai asks, because he can see the way Hinata’s hands fidget and his handwriting skitters across the map like it has a mind of its own. 

“A little,” He replies, honestly, although his smile seems to say otherwise. “More excited though. I can never quite get over the feeling of going out into space.”

“There’s really nothing like it, is there?” One of the other crew members- Sokolov, Kourai remembers his name being- leans over the back of the co-pilot chair. “We’ve got everything sorted back here, so we’re ready to go whenever you are.” 

At that, Kourai can’t help but grin. “Let’s not waste time, then.” 

As soon as he has the all-clear from control, Kourai kicks off the takeoff procedure, signalling in the winch to carry the shuttle out of the docking bay and into the takeoff zone. The thick doors shudder open, then close again behind them, and Kourai takes one deep, steadying breath as the final gateway into the emptiness behind them begins to yawn wide before them. 

Beyond, lies the unknown. 

Kourai kicks the engine into life, feels it roar below his palms, humming through his body like it’s an extra organ- an extension of himself. All the controls are in order, the fuel levels are good, Hinata has his directions finalised and his crew is buckled in for takeoff behind him. Everything is perfect. 

“Hold on tight.” Kourai can’t fight the joy from his words, as he launches them down the runway, and out towards the stars. 

The most notable thing is always how silent it is. 

Nothing like the bustle of the docking bay- out in space, there’s no sound aside from the engine below them and the chatter of the crew as they work hard to check that nothing was damaged in the takeoff procedure. It’s silent, it’s dark, and the way they’re entirely enveloped in stars is the most beautiful thing Kourai thinks he will ever see. 

It’s hard to not be reverent of the universe around them, as Hinata directs them towards the first beacon on their route. Because out there is infinity- unseen and unknown, filled with black holes and galaxies of stars and comets with icy tails that stretch for kilometers- entirely untouched and unexplored. In every direction, there is endlessness, and Kourai doesn’t know how anyone could possibly be satisfied with never seeing it up close. 

Beside him, Hinata’s eyes are filled with starlight, and Kourai just  _ knows _ he feels the same. 

But there’s work to be done, so Kourai tilts the angle of the ship to Hinata’s guidance, navigating towards the first beacon. Meian shuttles regular updates back to control, and Barnes keeps an eye on the condition of the ship, shouting back confirmation that everything is working as it should. Kourai is glad that their team fits together nicely, carrying him smoothly to the end of his shunt of time as pilot. 

He won’t deny that he feels more than a little bit reluctant to switch with Sokolov once they pull past the first beacon, right on schedule, but he supposes that co-piloting isn’t all that bad. When he gets relegated to checking the artificial gravity and making snack runs for the final three hours- then he’ll have the right to sulk a bit. 

It’s three hours in, part-way through Meian’s shift in the pilot seat, that it happens. 

“Hey, we’ve got something on-” Sokolov speaks up from beside him, peering down with narrowed eyes at the radar, before  _ something  _ strikes the ship. A tremor ricochets through its entire interior, and Kourai has to grab one of the railings to stop himself from crashing over into Hinata, legs turned to jelly by the sudden vibration.

Meian pulls the shuttle to a rapid halt, and begins calling out instructions. Kourai scrambles to follow them, doing his job of checking over the controls for damage, scanning over the feedback from the outside of the shuttle and ticking things off a list which sits constantly in the back of his mind, always ready for the worst. 

“Looks like a small asteroid,” He reports back eventually, heaving out a sigh of relief that no extensive damage seems to have occurred. “I can’t see any damage to the external structures.”

“I think it hit the communication rod,” Hinata speaks up, with an edge of worry to his voice that Kourai doesn’t like the sound of one bit. “I can’t establish a connection back to base- we’re cut off.” 

Silence falls upon the cockpit- while loss of communication is nowhere near as severe of an issue as structural damage, it leaves them open, exposed. If anything else should go wrong, then they’re entirely on their own. It’s terrifying to think about, worrisome enough that time in the cockpit feels like it’s flowing by at half-speed. 

“We should turn around now and head back to the  _ Watarimono. _ ” Barnes concludes, the first of them to speak.

“Too dangerous- we’re three hours out, and if something else happens on the way back, then we’re screwed,” Meian cuts in with a frown. “We should stay put until they send someone out to get us.” 

“We’ll have drifted into the asteroid belt by the time they’ve figured out where we are, we can’t just sit here.” Sokolov is the next to speak, looking back from the co-pilot seat with a troubled expression on his face. 

Kourai thinks, and thinks, and then-

“The rod’s probably just been knocked out of place- if I can get out there I can-” Before he can even finish talking, Meian cuts him off.

“Not a chance. You don’t even know what the damage is, it’s not worth the risk.” 

“I’ve done external repairs before, I know what I’m doing,” This is the part, Kourai thinks, where he gets to prove everyone wrong. “I’ll just hop out there and take a look- if there’s nothing I can do then I’ll come right back in, I swear.” 

“I’ll go with him,” Hinata speaks up, before anyone in the shuttle can say another word. He’s got that bright, defiant look in his eyes, and Kourai knows from the bottom of his heart that he sees it as a challenge too. “It’s safer in pairs, plus I can keep him in check.” He nudges Kourai in the side. 

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you-” He goes to rebuke, but Meian leans around from the pilot seat before he has the chance.

“Fine. Get kitted up and stay safe out there.” Meian looks reluctant, but there’s that hint of respect behind his words- a sound which Kourai knows he’ll never get tired of hearing. 

The process of getting into suits designed to face the vacuum of space is a complicated one. It takes Barnes and Sokolov’s combined assistance to get them fully equipped, and Kourai doesn’t think he’ll ever overcome how ridiculous it feels, standing there with a glorified fishbowl on his head as the airlock doors slide shut beside him and Hinata. 

“You ready?” Kourai asks, opening up a transmission line to Hinata across the distance between their suits. After all, in space, there’s no sound to be heard. It’s entirely silent.

“You bet- I haven’t done a spacewalk in  _ ages. _ ” Over the crackle of radio static, Hinata’s voice is nearly overflowing with excitement, and Kourai is glad- it wouldn’t do at all if either of them were nervous. And so Kourai checks that they’re hooked up correctly to the shuttle, sends a message of confirmation back to the cockpit, and watches as the doors yawn open. 

Sitting in a shuttle with a view of space beyond the plexiglass window is one thing. But being out in the open, surrounded on all sides by an endless darkness pin-pricked by stars that lie billions of miles away- that’s a whole other experience entirely. 

The first time Kourai had spacewalked, stepping beyond the double doors and feeling a wordless infinitum enveloping him on all sides, he had almost cried. Even now, it’s a similar sensation- an overwhelming, bone-shaking reverence towards just how  _ small _ he is, floating amongst a cosmos that was built for giants. A human, sharing an endless universe with neutron stars, solar storms, circumbinary planets and who  _ knows  _ what else- because there’s no end to the space which stretches out in every direction, and it’s impossible to predict what could be out there. Life, hospitable planets, undiscovered elements and matter which would break every known law of physics should it be discovered. Things lie in wait that could rewrite the very fundamentals of the universe, and Kourai thinks,  _ this is why I want to fly _ . 

There is an endless world to discover- and it’s his for the taking.

“Let’s check out the communication rod.” Kourai eventually says after what feels like hours, and it feels almost blasphemous to break the complete, overwhelming silence which surrounds them. Hinata nods, but doesn’t say a word, and Kourai can’t blame him. 

He was right about the communicator- it’s been knocked to the side, skewed just enough out of place for one of the wires at the base to snap in two, severing their communication with the  _ Watarimono.  _ He opens up a transmission into the cockpit to update them on his findings, while he prods around the rod in a search for any further damage.

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll have it fixed.” He announces. Really, ten minutes is generous- he knows he can get it done in less than five- but spacewalking is not an opportunity that comes around often, so he’s going to get as much out of it as he can. From the way Hinata laughs down their private communication channel, Kourai can tell that he was having the exact same thoughts. They’re two pilots from the same solar system, after all. 

Fixing the communication rod is an easy task. It’s one he’s carried out so many times he could probably do it with his eyes shut, although he wouldn’t risk missing out on a view of the universe to prove it. Hinata passes him tools, sometimes tossing them upwards so he has to lunge to grab them before they drift out into space, and feeds regular updates back to the cockpit to stop Meian from losing his hair with worry. 

He gets the communicator back up and running within four minutes, something he reports back with a self-satisfied smile. Then Hinata announces that they’re going to do a few more checks, just to ensure nothing else is damaged- and proceeds to do no such thing. Instead, he straps the tools away and flips himself over to float just above the shuttle, staring up at the stars. 

“So we’re lying on our reports now?” Kourai teases as he joins Hinata, letting the complete absence of gravity keep him afloat. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never lied just to extend the time you get outside the shuttle.” Hinata rebukes, seeing right through Kourai as though it’s as easy as anything. From beside him, Hinata shifts so his clunky space helmet is resting against Kourai’s shoulder, a point of contact amongst the vast nothingness. 

If he looks directly upwards, Kourai can pretend that it’s just him, Hinata, and the emptiness of the universe making room around them. Their own corner of space, where they can see the haze of the asteroid belt, where the stars seem larger than life and it’s so incredibly silent aside from the lull of Hinata’s breathing through their communication channel. 

It’s an endless universe, and they are so insignificantly small in comparison- yet somehow they are both here. Out of all the corners of the universe, they have both made it to this one.

Kourai kind of wants to stay here with him forever. 

Then Meian calls them both back inside, because it’s been  _ well  _ over ten minutes, and there’s only so many exterior checks that a pair of teenagers can carry out. 

“Coming back now.” Hinata reports, and even though he can’t see his face, Kourai can hear him smiling.

-

For some inexplicable reason, they’re back at the tenth storey window again.

It’s entirely Hinata’s fault, Kourai will make sure to clarify if anyone asks, because he’s a model student who doesn’t engage in dangerous activities. (Hinata had scoffed at that, and threatened to push him out of the window personally.)

Still, he can’t deny the fact that he likes the look of Hinata’s bright, competitive grin as he swings both of his legs over the window ledge. 

This time, Kourai doesn’t dare Hinata to go first, because he knows he’ll agree to it without a second thought. This time, he grabs Hinata’s hand, shouts a quick ‘ _ don’t get too scared’,  _ and pulls him out of the window alongside him. 

There’s a brief, terrifying moment where Kourai thinks that the anti-grav failsafe isn’t going to activate, but then he feels their descent slow to a halt around the sixth floor, and lets out a jubilant laugh that is most definitely not underpinned by relief. They’re still holding hands as they hop the railing and run, well prepared this time to avoid being caught. Down the stairs, through the marketplace where Hinata complains about  _ really  _ wanting breakfast, and towards the Lens with its wall of greenery and view of the stars. 

They huddle under a bush in the Lens, crouching amongst the leaves and giggling like children, because nobody would ever think to look for two pilots-in-training hiding amongst the foliage. Kourai opens his bag and produces a box of cold steamed buns he’d stashed in the dorms the day before, and Hinata stares at him like he hung the stars in the sky before swallowing one down so fast he almost chokes on it. 

There, crouched under a bush as Hinata stuffs his face with cold food and jumps every time a pair of feet walk past, Kourai decides that he wants to explore the universe with Hinata at his side. 

(Not before Kourai gets there first though, because no matter how head-over-heels he tumbles, he’s not about to let Hinata win.)

Hinata’s got leaves in his hair and he’s crouched over like a cat, and Kourai feels the event horizon pull him in, and swallow him whole. 

-

The next training mission outside the  _ Watarimono  _ comes sooner than expected, students of the training programme grouping up into pairs and taking to small, two-person shuttles for maneuverability tests out by the asteroid belt. They don’t fly all the way out there themselves, instead crowding into a cargo ship which shuttles them out towards their destination, the two-person crafts completely unsuited to long-distance travel. 

Kourai gets paired up with Hinata, much to his disappointment- because how can he win against him if they’re operating on the same team? Secretly though, he’s glad- there’s nobody else he’d rather spend time looping through space with. Besides, at least it means he didn’t get paired with Atsumu.

The small shuttles are far too cramped to be entirely comfortable, and through a game of rock-paper-scissors, Kourai is relegated to the co-pilot’s seat, letting Hinata take the main controls while he monitors the ship’s condition and keeps them on-route. 

As they take flight through the doors of the cargo bay, the asteroid belt looms before them. There’s extensive enough gaps between the rocks for even a large ship to make it through comfortably, but compared to the usual vastness of space, it’s a little unnerving to be in such close quarters to giant fragments of ancient rock, spinning through the void. 

It’s one of the more dangerous standard exercises, but Kourai is nothing if not confident, and he’s certain that Hinata feels the same. 

The task is simple- follow the beacons, avoid colliding with the asteroids, be mindful of the other shuttles flying around. Hinata throws himself into it with vigour, steering towards the first beacon on Kourai’s instructions. The two-person shuttles are far lighter and more agile than the usual vessels they pilot, and the fast speed at which they weave through the rocks feels something close to exhilarating. The knowledge that this asteroid belt is tiny in comparison to those elsewhere in the universe- that one day he will see vast fields that stretch for thousands of miles and house asteroids the size of small planets- it’s enough to make Kourai’s heart do flips behind his ribcage.

They pass the first beacon, then the second, Kourai directing them further and further into the belt with precise measurements that Hinata follows with a focused precision. It makes Kourai almost happy to be working as his co-pilot rather than the one sitting at the controls.

They’re making good time, pulling well ahead of the rest of the group, Kourai feels comfortable in the knowledge that they’re going to win this thing without a doubt.

“Want to go for onigiri at the marketplace once we get back?” Kourai asks, because breakfast had been as unsatisfying as always, and he could really go for some proper food. Hinata opens his mouth to agree, then freezes in horror.

In front of them, two asteroids collide, splintering off pieces of rock and debris and space-dust that hurtles directly towards them. Hinata jerks the controls, anything to get them out of the way, and Kourai doesn’t even have time to scream for him to stop as the ship slams sideways into another asteroid. Metal bends and groans and direction becomes meaningless as Kourai is thrown from his seat and into the wall with a resounding crack that makes everything go silent. 

When he comes to, the lights are gone, the control-panel is a myriad of warning beacons and Hinata is desperately hanging onto the railing as the ship spins and spins and spins. There’s no  _ ‘simulation failed’  _ sign on the window, no instructor knocking on the pod door, because this is the real deal, and Kourai feels sick to his stomach.

He can’t tell if it’s from the endless spinning of the shuttle, the place where he hit the back of his head against the wall, or the fact that he’s so scared that it makes his bones ache, but Kourai thinks he might just cry as Hinata crawls up through the dark and clings onto him like he’s a lifeline, arms wrapped around his shoulders and his nails digging into Kourai’s spacesuit hard enough to hurt. They’re still spinning, the artificial gravity is shutting down, and Kourai doesn’t even want to know how much fuel they must be burning through, but Hinata is still alive- wild-eyed and terrified, hanging onto him in the dark- so at least he has one certainty left.

Then a thin, wailing siren splits through the air, indicating damage to the oxygen supply, and Kourai wonders in horror if this is where they’re going to die.

Hinata is shaking violently, the haunting wail of the siren forming the only sound as the asteroid belt spins past the window in nauseating spirals. Kourai can’t tell if the way his breath comes out in sharp gasps is from the failing oxygen, the fear, or both, but he doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to know anything aside from the fact that Hinata is still holding onto him. 

The truth of the matter is: Hoshiumi Kourai is scared to die alone.

“Hoshiumi, I-” Hinata chokes out, like he can’t get enough breath in his lungs to carry the words out in their entirety. Kourai hates it, because it feels all too much like a goodbye. “I should have told you before- back when we spacewalked- I wanted-”

The siren wails, the world spins, and Kourai thinks-  _ I didn’t want it to be like this. _

“I like you. Have done for ages- and now we’re gonna-” 

Then, be it through some immovable piece of his competitive nature, a sudden burst of bravery, or just the desire to never lose a single battle that Hinata Shouyou presents to him- Kourai takes a thin, shuddering breath, and tells Hinata with every piece of confidence he has left that they’re not going to die here.

Getting back to the pilot’s seat is no easy task- the shuttle is still spinning in nauseating circles and the artificial gravity is shot to hell and back. But he still manages to haul himself over to the controls, pulling the steering mechanism hard enough that he feels like his wrists have been wrenched from their joints, pulling and pulling until the ship is stable enough for him to climb half into the seat, pouring over the controls in the dark to try and assess what still works. 

“We’re caught in orbit around an asteroid, I’m gonna try- just- hang on.” Breathing is difficult, everything is painful, and Kourai just has to hope that Hinata is holding onto something as he slams on the acceleration and twists the steering to flip them in the opposite direction of the asteroid’s orbit. It’s a maneuver he’s only ever learned in theory, too dangerous to ever test it in practice, but really, he doesn’t have any other choices. The shuttle groans in protest, the engine makes a noise like a dying animal and Kourai’s knuckles are white around the controls, but he keeps pushing, because he can’t admit defeat, not now. 

Even if they still go down, it won’t be without a fight. 

Then, finally, finally,  _ finally,  _ something budges, and they break loose, spinning away from the asteroid and into the belt.

Kourai doesn’t have time to celebrate- the oxygen levels are still low, they barely have enough fuel left to get by, and they’re still stuck amongst the asteroids, gravity totally gone. So he pulls the tablet into his lap, plotting directions with one hand and flying with the other, until the cargo ship comes into view and he’s able to send an urgent request for assistance to Control, voice shaking around the details.

The engine seems to limp around every movement, the fading oxygen supply makes him feel more and more lightheaded the closer he gets to the cargo ship and the skin on his palms is worn raw from how tightly he’s gripping the controls. But Hinata has snaked an arm around from the cramped rear of the shuttle, a constant point of contact at Kourai’s shoulder, and he can’t give up now, not when they’re so close.

The door to the cargo bay stretches open in front of them, and Kourai all but crashes the ship into the landing zone. He throws his arms around Hinata, and stumbles after him out of the cockpit door. His head feels like it’s full of static and the lights of the cargo bay spin before his eyes, and Kourai lets out a disbelieving laugh as he falls to his knees on the hangar floor, pulling Hinata down with him. 

He feels dizzy, adrenaline leaving his heart feeling like it’s about to beat clean out of his chest while he lies next to Hinata in a heap on the ground. Kourai can’t tell if he’s laughing or crying or both, as Hinata holds his face in his shaking hands and beams as bright as the stars through his tears.

“Hoshiumi-  _ Kourai-  _ you did it,” And it’s only as Hinata says it out loud that Kourai really begins to believe it. “We’re  _ alive. _ ” 

Kourai doesn’t think he’s ever been more glad to tell Hinata that he’s right.

“Back in the ship, when you said-” Kourai stares at him, and hopes with all of his heart that it wasn’t just some adrenaline-fueled delusion, because he doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if he let Hinata win over him like that. “Did you really mean-”

Hinata silences every one of his questions with a single, giddy laugh. “Of course I meant it- stars, how could I not-”

“Damn,” Kourai tells him in return, rendered near speechless for what feels like the first time in his life. “You beat me to it.” 

To scoop them up from the floor, it takes three of the five medics that rush into the cargo bay- because like hell Kourai was going to let Hinata go any time soon. 

-

When Kourai is called to the head office of the pilot training programme building, he’s convinced he’s about to get a slap on the wrist for wrecking the engine of a perfectly good shuttle in his attempts to get himself and Hinata back to base. 

Instead, the leader of the programme sits him down, offers him a cup of coffee, and asks for permission to send his credentials to a crew looking for a new co-pilot.

“The co-pilot of the research shuttle  _ Voyager  _ is retiring- they asked me to recommend one of my students to take on the job, and I don’t think there’s anyone better suited than you.” She announces, and Kourai feels himself struck speechless for the second time in only a few weeks. He hopes it’s not becoming a common occurrence. 

“Shouldn’t they be picking someone with more years of experience?” Kourai asks in response, and can’t quite believe what he’s saying. This is everything he’s ever wanted, and yet here he sits, more hesitant than he’s ever felt in his life. “I mean, I’m only nineteen, and-” 

“It’s a good thing that you fly like someone with more years of experience, then,” The programme leader shoots him a conspiratory smile, and Kourai decides that she’s not half bad. “That stunt you pulled in the asteroid belt- I couldn’t have gotten out of that situation any better myself. You keep showing that you’re not one to be underestimated, so why not prove us all wrong again?” 

There’s a small pixelated plant in the corner of the office that changes colour every ten seconds, and as he stares in its direction, it occurs to Kourai that this is it. He’s won. The stars are close enough to touch, and his hands are outstretched, ready to grasp on tight and never let go. 

The programme leader starts again, cutting into his thoughts. “Of course, I’ll give you some time to mull it over, maybe talk it through with your parents and friends. But if you decide to say yes, then I’ll send your credentials to the crew right away, and-”

“I’ll do it.” Kourai says, because he orbits at his own pace, and everyone else is just going to have to sprint to keep up.

He goes to tell his mom first, mainly because he doesn’t think she’d forgive him otherwise. He sprints up the stairs to his family’s apartment two at a time and bangs on the door with a jubilant shout of “Mom, I’m going to  _ space! _ ” 

It’s reminiscent of the time he got accepted into the pilot training programme against everyone’s expectations- fourteen years old and stumbling up the staircase with his acceptance letter open on his tablet screen, proclaiming that one day, Hoshiumi Kourai would take to the stars. 

Then he tells Sachirou- they’ve been friends since they were both kids, and he was the first to hear when Sachirou got into vet school after dropping out of the training programme, so he supposes it’s only fair.

He  _ wants  _ to tell Atsumu, just to see the look on his face, but that would also require telling Hinata. 

It’s letting Hinata know that’s the only issue.

Kourai always believed that, on the day he won their race, he would storm right into Hinata’s dorm, slam his tablet down on his desk, and let the feeling of accomplishment rain down on him like a solar storm. He’d planned it out in great detail more than once, although that’s something he’s not in any hurry to admit. 

But he’s grown comfortable with how things are. Though they still compete against one another in everything from eating breakfast to flight simulator scores, he’s begun to enjoy treating him to onigiri for lunch, taking runs to the docking bay and back every other morning, smuggling cold marketplace food into the cafeteria and hiding under the bushes in the Lens just because they can. 

Hinata is the one thing in life that Kourai doesn’t mind taking slowly, the one thing he isn’t going to rush through like a comet trail- time works differently in the event horizon of a black hole after all. He’s never been so afraid to announce his own victory before now.

But then he receives a notation from the captain of the  _ Voyager  _ about the clauses of his new job- the ship will return from its current mission in ten days, then Kourai will have another twenty to get to know the crew, familiarise himself with the controls and go over the routes with the head pilot, before they set off once more into the unknown. Kourai forges all of his own opportunities- he crafted this one with his own two hands, and if he’s going to be leaving in thirty days, then he might as well make sure that Hinata is built into those opportunities too.

So he stops in the viewing area of the docking bay and punts his empty sports bottle into the waste chute just to watch it get spat back out again, like he’s stalling for time. Then- 

“I won,” He says, simple as that. “I got a job as the co-pilot of a research ship. I beat you.”

“You deserve it,” Hinata responds, smiling that supernova-bright smile of his, and Kourai doesn’t know why he was so worried in the first place. “I’ve still got a lot to learn- but I’ll catch up to you someday soon.” 

“You’d better,” Kourai smiles back. “I’ve waited for you long enough- it’s about time you got a move on.” 

As they run back along the walkways, Hinata jumps and skims his fingers across the plexiglass divide which separates them both from the stars. Though he doesn’t say a word, it sounds like a challenge and a promise, all in one.

(Kourai tells Atsumu over breakfast, and the look on his face was well worth the wait.)

-

Thirty days on, Kourai steps through the doors of the  _ Voyager,  _ the ship that will be his home for the next two years. It feels like a reversal of roles of sorts, as he turns over his shoulder to see Hinata leaning out from the walkway above the docking bay, his shock of orange hair looking like a beacon that might one day lead Kourai home. 

He takes one last look around the  _ Watarimono,  _ the ship he was born on, the ship he grew up on, the ship every training mission brought him back to. 

“Touch the stars for me, Kourai!” Hinata shouts down from the walkway, loud and unashamed, as the  _ Voyager’s  _ doors slide closed for the last time in two years. 

Kourai thinks- even for someone as impatient as himself- that two years to wait is no time at all.

-

Hoshiumi Kourai is the youngest pilot to take flight from the homestead fleet. He stands with his back to a sun that no human has ever seen before, in a solar system that has remained untouched since the beginning of time, and pages himself through to Shouyou’s room. 

“I won, Shouyou.” Kourai tells him from a corner of space he can truly call his own.

Shouyou grins like he’s trying to hide a supernova behind his teeth, and says that he’ll join him there soon. 

**Author's Note:**

> watarimono- wanderer  
> negura- roost
> 
> comments make me cry tears of joy
> 
> twt: bee__calm  
> tumblr: bee-calm


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